


the darkest shade of blue

by kz_jell



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, Dealing With Failure, Depression, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kz_jell/pseuds/kz_jell
Summary: In the unnerving stillness of the night, Akaashi Keiji comes across a memento of his past. One man has a heart of steel and the other has a heart of glass.--“Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough.”Keiji frowns. “I don’t think that’s true, Kuroo-san.”Kuroo’s grin grows wider, but there's no trace of joy in his eyes. “Guess it’s just my limit, then. I’m not cut out for success.”“We can’t all be monsters.” Keiji blinks. It’s a reality he accepted a long time ago, and all the times he’s come short of success has only bolstered this fact.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	the darkest shade of blue

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emyKS5v2HY4&ab_channel=YoungtheGiant) by Young the Giant

There comes a time during the night, when silence starts to ring in your ears: the unfamiliarity of it in a bustling city with people and transportation and electricity bringing about a sort of eeriness. It quivers through your head and into your bones, throughout each muscle and capillary, a feeling that can’t be placed, like the vibration of atoms as you dissociate from your rational, daytime mind. Do you long to be awake when the rest of the city dreams? Do you yearn for this time of true solitude, of unnerving peace?

Akaashi Keiji picks up the night shift at the convenience store not because he wants to, but because he has to. Tokyo is expensive and… well, Keiji needs all the money he can get. He adjusts to it quickly enough, being a child of the night, embracing the darkness and minimal interaction with people. He gets the occasional drunkard, looking for cheap booze and cigarettes; the college undergrads, looking for the same as the drunkards; the late-night workers who want coffee and a snack; and then finally, the health nuts who rise before dawn like clockwork, grabbing breakfast and a protein drink. Transactions are quick, responses on autopilot, and Keiji spends most of the time where he's used to being: inside his head. 

He barely registers the door chime, signaling someone's entry, until a man plops instant ramen and two cans of coffee onto the counter. Keiji glances up to see wayward black hair and downcast narrow eyes: features flickering a locked compartment of his heart—a slice of a naïve, happier life. He is momentarily surged to a stage of blinding lights, a satisfying sting on each fingertip, and the unstoppable burning of a star. Another beat and the image is gone, replaced by the man in front of him who seems to be only a fragment of the past, eyes soulless with dark rings underneath. 

“Kuroo-san.” Keiji whispers—fragilely, riskily.

The man flicks his eyes up for the first time, and Keiji now sees that they’re not soulless, but rather burdened with utter exhaustion and dread, mirroring the ones Keiji sees in himself every night when he wakes up and every morning when he goes to sleep. Kuroo’s eyes widen and his mouth parts silently, involuntarily. They stay like that for a moment, past and present mingling, frayed lines intersecting and coming alive after seasons upon seasons of hibernation. 

“Akaashi,” Kuroo finally breathes out. “Where have you b— How are you doing?” His words trip over each other. Keiji knows the question is contrived: a façade of polite conversation after the collision of old and new worlds. 

“I’ve been well.” Keiji says automatically. 

Kuroo chuckles and ducks his head down. “C’mon, Akaashi. You fell off the face of the planet for what, five years?” _(Six years and counting, actually—)_ “Gimme something more than that.” 

Maybe he says it accusingly, maybe not, but either way, Keiji guilts. “Sorry.” 

“It’s not me you should be saying that to. He still worries about you, y’know?” Kuroo says softly. 

Keiji thinks about the expanse of an ace’s back, headstrong and hopeful and awe-inspiring. He thinks about the number 4—no, it was 5 last time he saw—and something stirs in his chest. It’s the faintest pulse of nostalgia, emotions he pushed down a long, long time ago, when all the overthinking and angst became _too much_ that he had to shut it out of his heart and lock the door with a key.

Kuroo sighs. “Never mind about that, though. I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” he smiles sadly. “We all have our reasons for moving on, right?”

Keiji’s reason? He just wanted to be alone. Being alone is simple—you have yourself and that’s it.

“Kuroo-san.” Keiji searches his eyes. “You look tired.” 

“Med school’d do that to you. Well, more like flunking out of med school,” he laughs. “Not good enough to go pro, not good enough to be a doctor, go figure,” he puts on a lopsided smirk. “Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough.” 

Keiji frowns. “I don’t think that’s true, Kuroo-san.” 

Kuroo’s grin grows wider, but there’s no trace of joy in his eyes. “Guess it’s just my limit, then. I’m not cut out for success.”

“We can’t all be monsters.” Keiji blinks. It’s a reality he accepted a long time ago, and all the times he’s come short of success has only bolstered that fact. “And if your definition of success outweighs your capabilities as a normal human being, then you should reconsider it.” 

Kuroo barks out a genuine laugh. “Blunt as ever, Akaashi. Are you saying I should just give up?” 

Keiji shakes his head. “No, the opposite. I’m saying that there are different avenues to achieving your goals.” He thinks about his manuscripts—the culmination of years of hard work and late nights, heart poured out into each painstakingly written word—buried somewhere in a box on a shelf in his apartment that barely feels like a home. His magnum opus, just papers ready to be recycled, to be scattered in a sleeping city that doesn’t care about your existence. When’s the last time he cared about something? When’s the last time he cared enough to have a real conversation like this with another human being? Keiji tries to recall the past few years but it’s all dark haze and white noise.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience." Kuroo says, an open invitation to elaborate.

Keiji dismisses it. “Why’d you want to be a doctor?” he asks instead.

“I—” Kuroo swallows. “I’ve been working towards it for so long that I can’t imagine not being one. I just… want to help people. I want to heal them and give them the opportunity to have a fulfilling life.” 

Keiji raises an eyebrow. “Admirable, but not solely limited to doctors.” 

Kuroo huffs out. “You don’t think I know that? Don’t patronize me,” he says with an edge to his voice. “I just can’t, _can’t_ see myself as anything else.”

Keiji gets it. His lungs are filled with ashes from the extinguished flames of a dream. A lifetime later, it’s still hard to breathe. “You have two choices, then: to pick yourself up and return to med school, or find another path.”

_Easier said than done,_ it goes unsaid.

“But what if I do something else and it’s not what I want? What if I’m not _happy_?” Kuroo laments.

“What if you will be?” Keiji counters. “ _What if’_ s are useless, anyways. You’ll never know until you’re there.”

Kuroo sighs. “Yeah, I know, it’s just—” he runs a hand through his unruly hair. “Y’know what? It doesn't matter. I don’t wanna unload all my shit on you like this when it’s the first time I’ve seen you since—” _(college, a reunion, six years ago,)_ “You, you look good.”

Keiji snorts. He knows what he looks like: a shell of a human being, more dead than living.

“I’m serious, Akaashi, you,” Kuroo gestures at him. Keiji has no idea what it means. “Like, yeah, you look... weary, but,” his voice quiets. “You look good. Always have.”

Keiji feels the resistance in his mind, so common it’s become natural, pushing away any instance of connection with others. But admittedly, he feels a sort of kindred spirit with the man in front of him. Commiserating in misery, or something like that. He looks at Kuroo, who grew even taller since high school, who retained the broad shoulders of a former athlete but are weighed down by invisible sorrows, who still hadn’t managed to tame his hair but it’s dorkishly charming. “You too, Kuroo-san,” Keiji finally replies.

Kuroo grins slightly and his eyes crinkle into crescents—finally, a genuine smile. “Do you wanna grab a coffee sometime? To catch up?” His words spill out carelessly yet his eyes show an intense purposefulness. “N-no pressure, of course.”

Keiji closes his eyes and faces the internal walls he’s been building for years. They’re tall and cemented, but not impenetrable. Maybe Keiji is ready to muster the courage to chisel that first brick down. Maybe he’s ready to see what’s on the other side.

“Gladly, Kuroo-san.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for listening to me project onto fictional characters again. Hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kz_jell/status/1361838770274906112) <3


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